


Private Lessons

by greenHarlequin



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fingering, M/M, Tutoring, set just before mtmte #50
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:04:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6563761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenHarlequin/pseuds/greenHarlequin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We missed you in class."<br/>Rodimus made a sound to acknowledge Megatron's presence, but didn't answer. He continued scrolling through a document on his datapad.<br/>"And you haven't handed in a single assignment."<br/>"So?"<br/>Out of the corner of his optics he could see Megatron's frown deepening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Private Lessons

"We missed you in class."  
Rodimus made a sound to acknowledge Megatron's presence, but didn't answer. He continued scrolling through a document on his datapad.  
"And you haven't handed in a single assignment."  
"So?"  
Out of the corner of his optics he could see Megatron's frown deepening.  
"You aren't setting a good example for the crew, Rodimus." he rumbled, crossing his arms.  
Okay. Rodimus set his datapad aside and swiveled his chair around so he could properly face the bigger Mech.  
"I have a ship to run, Megs. I don't have time for stuff like that." he crossed his arms as well, craning his neck a little to look up at Megatron. Maybe he should've stood up. This was getting stupider by the minute. He could just walk out, but that would be admitting defeat. Besides it was his office, he wouldn't let a little staring match make him flee his own office.  
The only problem with that was that Megatron was very, _very_ good at staring matches.  


"Stuff like what, Rodimus?" he demanded, voice so calm and neutral Rodimus would be fooled if he didn't know exactly that this was Megatron masking his anger.  
"Stuff like... like assignments and lectures and group discussions. It's silly." he scoffed and returned his attention to his datapad. Scroll, scroll, scroll... this wasn't where he had left off. Damn.  
"It's educational. Magnus attends."  
"Magnus attends everything that sounds like the opposite of fun." Rodimus shot back, annoyed. Why was Megatron so insistent on him attending his stupid little classes? He had reports to... scroll through. And a desk-map to stare at. And a whole lot of other things. He was a very busy mech, okay?  
"Rodimus. The ship won't spontaneously combust into flames if you stop staring at your desk for an hour occasionally." Megatron's voice was still very calm.  
"You know, you wouldn't say that if you'd been on this ship since the beginning." Rodimus grumbled. Okay, spontaneous fires weren't on the list of things that had happened within the first few months, but the list of things that _didn't_ happen was significantly shorter than the list of things that _did_.  


Megatron made a noise that could have been mistaken for a sigh, except a mech like _Megatron_ didn’t sigh, and fully entered the room, letting the door slide shut behind him. He leaned against Rodimus' desk, conveniently blocking his co-captain's view of the map and quickly took the datapad from his hands.  
"You were in the first lecture." Megatron observed.  
"I just wanted to see what you were up to." The answer came with a bit too much lag to sound fully convincing. Rodimus wondered if he could just snatch the datapad back from Megatron's hands. It would be possible if he could stand up without essentially toppling himself into Megatron's large frame. Wow, great going Rodimus, absolutely stunning, quality line of thought, let's shelf that one and _never deal with it again_.  
Megatron studied his face.  
"Rodimus?" he asked, voice serious. The answer came almost automatically.  
"Sup."  
"You skipped every subsequent lecture. For _months_. What is really the problem?"  
Good to know he was so transparent his frame might as well have been forged from glass. Rodimus groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.  


"I'm just really bad at studying, okay? Are you happy now?" he snapped, glaring at the taller mech.  
"There is nothing that would speak against tutoring you privately." Megatron answered without missing a beat, as if he had expected exactly this answer.  
And Rodimus could only hope to Primus that either his fans venting furiously at the suggestion was too quiet for Megatron to hear or that Megs was ignoring it on purpose. Who was he kidding, as close as the other mech was standing... yeah, no way he couldn't hear that. Welp. Private Tutoring. Rodimus wasn't stupid; he knew exactly what that could mean. And the worst thing was he would lie to himself if he continued to pretend he wasn't at least a little bit into it. Not the scenario he usually thought up, but an interesting new twist.  
"So?" Megatron prompted, startling Rodimus out of his thoughts. Was he ever going to get another chance like this? It wasn't like offers like this came along all the time, especially not with a mech like Megatron.  
"How would that tutoring look like?" Rodimus asked, grinning. Megatron pushed off the desk and towered over him. If he could just will his fans to stop their traitorous whirring...  


"We are starting with the lecture on functionism you missed today." the large mech said, grin tugging at a corner of his mouth ever so slightly.

*

"If you put the semicolon there you're quoting a newsfeed, not a history paper."  
"If you want me to write this stupid essay stop correcting my citation style every three lines, Megs!"  
Rodimus tabbed back over to one of the many texts Megatron had given him as material for this assignment. Seriously how did he expect any mech to remember all this and write about it? He wasn't Percy, or Nautica, or Brainstorm, or _Skids_.  
A broad hand reached over his shoulder and highlighted a section of the text.  
"Highlighting relevant passages will help you retain information", Megatron pointed out. Rodimus was too busy trying to stop his spark from jumping through his chest plate. _Primus_. If Megatron could just point these things out without being so close... He could feel the heat radiating off of the broad frame as close as they were and it didn't exactly help with trying to focus on this assignment.  
"Rodimus? Concentration, please."  


This was _the worst_. He could tell his essay writing skills were cringe worthy at best, especially if seen by someone who started an entire rebellion with nothing but his writing. They were cringe worthy on his better days and right now he was distracted and everything was awkward and he was trying to ignore the way Megatron's voice was deep and rumbly and how every encouragement made his systems heat up. Like he was some freshly forged idiot with a crush. And while he could at least follow the texts he was working through, it was hard to think of someone like Optimus having this much trouble with a simple history assignment. Or for similar reasons. Yeah, okay, _thanks for nothing_ brain. This train of thought was pushed aside vehemently as well as Rodimus attempted get back to his homework.  
"So if I use this line as an argument against the military-favoritism in functionist society..." he trailed off, frowning at the text.  
"Go on."  
Rodimus scowled at his datapad. His line of thought barely made sense two lines down. Like the author used words specifically to make the whole mess undecipherable but smart sounding. Megatron standing next to him instead of sitting down didn't help.  
"This text is stupid. I can't even tell if the author is for or against the privilege granted to the military class." the red mech complained, waving the datapad with annoyance.  


Megatron's half-smile was back. He reached for the datapad again, leaning in close. Rodimus fans were going at frequencies that Velocity would declare a medical miracle, no doubt. He could still only hope that if Megatron could hear it, he was going to keep on ignoring it.  
"These two sentences are probably why. This historian seems particularly indecisive in whether he argues for or against a class system." he explained, pointing out the passages in the text.  
Rodimus was hardly listening. He was pretty sure he couldn't compute any of the words Megatron was saying if he actually tried. The way Megatron half smiled at teaching him was almost absolutely a refraction against article _HolySlag_ , paragraph _Wow_. If he asked Ultra Magnus he'd know for sure. Not that he was ever going to. He'd rather walk face-first into a pissed-off, drunk Whirl-rampage.  


Megatron cleared his throat. Or rather, he actually said "ahem". The bulky mech had a surprising number of silly little quirks like that. Rodimus had to bite back a laugh, but returned his attention to his tutor with a grin.  
"This is a decent essay so far but if you can't concentrate anymore, we can take a break." The challenge was audible. Rodimus was pretty sure they had been at this for barely an hour.  
"No, no. I can keep going." he waved Megatron off. Well he _could_. Or he could make the lesson more interesting for both of them. It was worth at least a try.  
"Alright. Then please take a look at this paragraph here..." Megatron began, taking the datapad, tabbing over to another text and scrolling to the relevant section. Rodimus was only half paying attention, trying to figure out how to breach the topic of _changing around the lesson plan_. Something still managed to catch his attention. His hands brushed against Megatron's wrists casually as he highlighted a text passage that he had already read earlier and wondered about.  


_"The functionist condition is ultimately an expression of narrowminded literalism. Inflexible and ultimately doomed to break down like the brittle, faultily constructed ruins of old."_   


Megatron made a little noise. Rodimus wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad noise.  
"You wrote that, right?" he asked, looking up at the older mech.  
"Yes. As the citation footnote says." Megatron grumbled.  
"Do you think I should cite this?" Rodimus asked, his fingers wandering up Megatron's arm slowly.  
"You should avoid quoting a source while it is quoting another source. Wherever possible you should... Rodimus what do you think you are doing?"  
"Trying to get at the primary source?" Rodimus grinned at Megatron. The ex-decepticon didn't look impressed.  
There was a beat of silence, before Rodimus' grin began to falter. Alright, okay, Rod, time to back off and get back to essay-writing. This was a terrible idea, and _awful_ idea. He tried to scoot back a bit, but Megatron caught his hand before he could retreat entirely.  
Rodimus refused to meet his optics. If he just ignored this long enough maybe they could just go back to writing this stupid essay already and pretend none of what he did just now happened. His fans were still cycling in cool air at alarming speeds. Primus, but this was embarrassing  


"Rodimus?"  
"No."  
"Rodimus look at me."  
He would like to be anywhere but here right now. This had been a terrible mistake.  
A warm, broad hand rested on his shoulder. And Megatron still had his hand trapped. Somehow this was both more embarrassing and oddly reassuring. Rodimus carefully turned his head to look at the other mech. Megatron was looking at him, studying his face.  
"Do you actually want to continue the lesson? Or is this a nefarious plan to seduce me?"  
Rodimus rolled his optics. "Your jokes keep getting worse and worse, Megs." That actually earned a little laugh from the older mech. Rodimus grinned again. Banter, he could do banter.  
"So?" the older mech prodded. Rodimus wanted to look aside, but suddenly the hand that had been on his shoulder was on his chin, forcing him to look at Megatron. Had his optics always been this intense? Like the red glare was looking straight into his spark.  


"I might've thought you were offering a different kind of tutoring..." Rodimus finally admitted, fans whirring up once more. Megatron didn't laugh. The little smile was back, but he didn't laugh at him or push him away. No answer yet, though. Did Megs _try_ to torture him with suspense? Rodimus optics searched the other bot's face for any clues. With each moment that passed without either of them saying anything the tension grew until Rodimus felt as if his frame was going to be ripped apart by how taut his cables felt.  
"After you've completed your assignment", Megatron finally, _finally_ answered.  
"But..." That sounded like the longest wait of his entire life.  
"No buts."  
Rodimus’ processors were working overtime, as he was trying to come up with an argument, any argument. He was pretty sure he'd prove Megatron's earlier statement about spontaneous ship combustion wrong if this was drawn out any longer. Hell, just the prospect of this happening at all was enough to turn him on so much his valve started lubricating.  
"You promised a break." he blurted out finally, grabbing for his datapad and tabbing over to where he was writing the essay. "And I'm already over half the minimum word count."  
"You said you didn't need a break." Megatron chuckled, letting go of Rodimus hand, and finally settling back into his chair. He probably liked watching Rodimus grasping at straws, the aft. The younger mech shrugged. "I changed my mind." he replied, challenging the other to say something about that.  
"Is that so?"  
"Yep."  


Megatron stretched his pedes, casual as can be. Always in full control. Rodimus was pretty sure the older mech was making a point of his calmness on purpose, specifically to tease him. He would be lying if he claimed it didn't work. _Slag_.  
On the other hand, the way Megatron was sitting also made it very easy to climb onto his lap and test his calm up close. There was barely enough room but Rodimus managed to get a knee up onto the chair on either side of his co-captains thighs and with a smug grin draped his arms loosely over those broad shoulders.  
"Is this your idea of convincing me?" Megatron asked, voice even, entirely unbothered. Rodimus would love to ask him how he did it, but he suspected the answer would just be "Millions of years of experience". Another thing Rodimus would love to do was figure out how to crack the calm facade. He put on his most winning grin, the one that usually melted the resolve of the foolhardiest bots.  
"Is it working?" he asked back, leaning in close enough that their forehelms almost touched. One of the advantages of being this close was that he could _hear_ Megatron's fans whirr a notch faster, even as the taller mech didn't twitch.  
"This is extraordinarily inappropriate behavior, even for you, Rodimus." Megatron rumbled, but he did place a broad hand on the Speedster's waist, right over the bio lights. Rodimus' grin grew a bit softer.  
"No one's around to scold us, Megs." he countered and before the other mech could protest again he kissed him, hasty and desperate. The way Megatron's hand on his waist held on for dear life and the surprised noise he made when their lips found each other were enough to make Rodimus' plating feel like he was burning from the inside out. When they separated his optics remained offline for a few seconds as he tried to gather his wits about him.  


They flickered back on when Megatron's thumb idly traced a line of bio lights. His voice box glitched, when strong fingers started tracing the curve of his hip-joint. What a tease...! One of Rodimus' hands cupped Megatron's face, angling it upward so he could look him in the optics as he lifted himself up on his knees, thighs spread over the other mech's lap. His other hand wandered down the bulky frame of a shoulder, tracing the spot where the fusion cannon had once been mounted, before his fingers encircled the wrist of the hand on his hip as well as he could. Megatron hesitated.  
"Okay?" Rodimus asked, rubbing tiny circles into the plating covering the thumb joint.  
"Are you sure?" the question was very quiet and serious. Rodimus smiled, brightly.  
" _Yes_." He pressed their lips together again and firmly steered Megatron's hand to his interface panel. His visual input glitched briefly as he felt his spike pressurize. A finger traced the rim of his valve, touch barely there. The sensation seemed to go straight to his spark like a bolt of lightning. He exvented in a rush.  


Megatron smiled into their kiss, while teasing him with light touches, retreating before Rodimus could properly chase the sensation. The bigger mech's other arm came up to encircle his waist, holding him up and steadying him in his kneeling position. Even with the fool's Energon weakening his strength he could easily hold Rodimus in place.  
The frustrated noise the speedster made was crackling with static around the edges. If Megatron wanted to keep things slow, well, he had other plans. His hands wandered, tracing transformation seams and sketching out the outlines of vents. Megatron's face remained calm and controlled.  
"Rodimus-"  
His voice box glitched out when Rodimus's fingers rubbed over the closed interface panel. The younger mech grinned smugly. Before he could say anything though Megatron slipped a finger into his valve, cutting off any line of thought he might have had. He waited until Rodimus voice box stopped producing garbled static before moving his finger inside him at a torturously slow pace. Every little touch made his plating tingle all over, wishing he could grind down against the broad strong hand.  
"Let me..." Rodimus managed to get out, tracing the edges of the Megatron's closed panel with his fingers. With a small shiver the taller mech opened up, letting his own optics flicker off for a moment while Rodimus caught his lips for another kiss. His slender fingers wrapped around the base of Megatron's pressurized spike. There was a brief pause before he could speak, voice barely audible over the whirring of fans as a Megatron worked a second finger into him.  
"Scoot forward a bit, Megs." he managed to grind out.  
"Are you-"  
"Yes! Yes, I _am_ sure."  


His valve was so lubricated he felt like he was dripping. And even with two fingers working in and out of him, gently caressing his inner nodes and making him tremble badly enough that Megatron had to hold him up by the arm around his waist, his valve still felt empty. Megatron pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and moved forward on the chair, giving Rodimus a bit more wiggle room. The chair was still too small, he couldn't get his knees out of the way enough to position himself properly over Megatron's spike.  
"Scrap", Rodimus hissed out. There had to be a way. He probably just wasn’t flexible enough. If he tried harder, maybe he could… Megatron shook his head ever so slightly, shuffling back into a more comfortable position on the chair.  
"Later." he reassured the younger mech, before he worked a third finger in. Rodimus trembled as he adjusted to the feeling of being stretched like this. He wished he could grind down properly, frag himself on those strong fingers, but Megatron's arm around his waist still held him up firmly. He was close to overload but he was determined to make Megatron finish before him if he couldn’t ride him properly. He slowly and teasingly ran his hand over the length of his spike, with his hand rubbing lazy, irregular circles around the bigger mech’s node. With satisfaction he noticed the small, well hidden tells behind the calm facade, the way Megatron's voice box hitched and his frame shivered, when he ran a finger over his node or his thumb stroked the head of his spike. Rodimus rested his forehelm against Megatron's losing himself in the sensation as he circled a finger around the taller mech's valve, his other hand still stroking along the spike, feeling every little shiver that ran through each of their frames like an earthquake.  


A few strokes later Megatron overloaded, silently and with barely more than a tremble. After the last shiver had passed, he ground his entire palm against Rodimus' node, fingers buried deep in his valve, sudden pressure too much for his systems. Overload caught him with a cloud of incoherent static, voicelessly mouthing Megatron's name against his lips. He slumped forward into the taller mech's frame, riding the aftershocks and barely noticing that Megatron had finally let go of his waist in order to cup his face.  
A few moments passed while Rodimus tried to regain any level of coherency. Both of their fan systems were still whirring, cooling them down. Megatron slowly withdrew his fingers, leaving his co-captain's valve oversensitive and pleasantly sore.  


Another few moments passed before Megatron cleared his throat again. Or rather he said "ahem".  
"So, your essay..." he began and Rodimus laughed, swatting at Megatron's shoulder.


End file.
